User blog:Verity the Haremaiden/Verity's Songs and Poems


 * So most of you know I'm less of the writer type an' more o' the jolly old song-writer type, if that makes any sense, wot! Well, here's a few of my songs, most of 'em Long Patrol ballads (and a few tuneless scripts to boot), as they come to my bally old brain, as I haven't got the spacce on page for all of 'em, donchaknow!

Big Breg Breltin Old Corporal Crumpet could fight a good fight
 * Fought better than twelve it's been said;
 * But no hare's so bold in the Long Patrolll!
 * As Big Breg when 's time to be fed!
 * Goodness gracious me!
 * He's a sight to see!
 * He'll scoff all the cake
 * The Mess cooks can bake
 * When 'tis time f' tea!
 * Runner Bonny's got a voice like honey
 * Rings softly o'er the sands so fine
 * But she can't compare to Breg Breltin haaare!
 * When that brave chap sets down to dine!
 * Goodness gracious me!
 * He's a sight to see!
 * He'll down a great pail
 * Of October Ale
 * When 'tis time f' tea!
 * I knew a hare who marched hither an' there
 * Marched day an' all night just for fun
 * But though hard he tried, that hare nearly dieeed!
 * When he challenged Big Breg to lunch!
 * Goodness gracious me!
 * He's a sight to see!
 * Of Shrimp Hotroot Soup
 * He'll sup for a troop
 * When 'tis time for tea!
 * There's many a hare that's had his fair share
 * Of singin', marchin' an' fightin'
 * But few the bold beast can sit down to feeeast!
 * When Big Breg starts a-scoffin'!
 * Goodness gracious me!
 * He's a sight to see!
 * The best o' the best
 * Breg trumps all the rest,
 * When he comes for tea!
 * When Big Breg starts a-scoffin'!
 * Goodness gracious me!
 * He's a sight to see!
 * The best o' the best
 * Breg trumps all the rest,
 * When he comes for tea!
 * When he comes for tea!

Rubbish Stew (I suspect an otter ballad but I can't be sure ;) )
 * Rubbish Stew! O Rubbish Stew! That's the stuff, fer me an' you!
 * Eat it cold or eat it hooot! That's the brew what hits the spot!
 * First take a pawful o' rocks, an' a pinch of dust (to taste),
 * Throw in whiskers offa fox! Aye let nothin' go to waste.
 * Pass one rotten cabbage here, two cuttlefish an' a slug,
 * Don't sneak out yet, cully dear! First cummere an' try a mug!
 * Rubbish Stew! O Rubbish Stew! Sing wi' me, I'll sing wi' you;
 * I'll take it boiled, burned or baaaked! 'Tis good f'ye, an' no mistake!
 * Don't sneak out yet, cully dear! First cummere an' try a mug!
 * Rubbish Stew! O Rubbish Stew! Sing wi' me, I'll sing wi' you;
 * I'll take it boiled, burned or baaaked! 'Tis good f'ye, an' no mistake!
 * I'll take it boiled, burned or baaaked! 'Tis good f'ye, an' no mistake!

The Sharp End of a Lance

Wicked weasel, stoat or marten Vile rat, polecat, and sly fox, too We'll send those ver-min all a-packin' A lance can handle any vermin crew.
 * We'll take 'em big, we'll take 'em small
 * We'll take 'em just, any way they come
 * We'd rather like it, if they would all
 * Find somewhere else, to call their home.
 * Those vermin hordes, don't stand a chance
 * Against our lads, so brave and bold
 * They'll get the sharp end of a lance
 * Wi' compliments of the Long Patrol!
 * Those vermin hordes, don't stand a chance
 * Against our lads, so brave and bold
 * They'll get the sharp end of a lance
 * Wi' compliments of the Long Patrol!

Dirge of the Mad Medic (A song written in honour of Mad Maddrey Dickens, Head Medickal Offisah of the Long Patrol)
 * What d'ye do when you've skint your paw,
 * Or y' face is turnin' bright blue?
 * What if y' tail is itchy 'n' raw,
 * And you've smashed y' good ear too?
 * Hide y'self, here he comes!
 * The Medic! The Medic!
 * Fates keep me footpaws safe an' sound,
 * I'll not have any rest or stay
 * As long as the Medic's around,
 * He'll be choppin' paws off all day!
 * Hide y'self, here he comes!
 * The Medic! The Medic!
 * The recruits an' greenpaws all fear
 * The beast that's ghostly grey an' white
 * He who'll savagely sew one's ear
 * And rend paws an' bend tails for spite!
 * The Medic! The Medic!
 * The recruits an' greenpaws all fear
 * The beast that's ghostly grey an' white
 * He who'll savagely sew one's ear
 * And rend paws an' bend tails for spite!
 * He who'll savagely sew one's ear
 * And rend paws an' bend tails for spite!

Ballad of Queen Varinna (Written for SalemtheCruel, a grand beast and no mistake :D)
 * (slow)
 * All vermin sing her songs o'er the hills and the vales;
 * Of her might in battle's been penned many a tale.
 * She could fight like ten beasts, more like twenty some said;
 * By all their accounts she left, every enemy dead!
 * Though the goodbeasts fought they'd find all effort in vain
 * If they fought the great sable, they'd find themselves slain!
 * They could find themselves keelhauled, or burnt at the stake;
 * Aye the Lady's a grand one, and make no mistake.
 * Varinna the Sable, Master of All Sobek!
 * Of all vermin on land, and all vermin on deck,
 * The fright of the foebeast, and the scourge of the weak!
 * Nobeast can escape the blood and ruin she wreeeeeaks!
 * Of all vermin on land, and all vermin on deck,
 * The fright of the foebeast, and the scourge of the weak!
 * Nobeast can escape the blood and ruin she wreeeeeaks!

Freedom! (A song sung by rebelling slaves)
 * This Land held fast by tyranny
 * For a hundred seasons gone by,
 * All families in slavery
 * In bondage, were all a-cryin';
 * Beaten, lashed, starved, tortured we,
 * Whilst kinfolk were all a-dyin':
 * Resolved to make our homeland free,
 * Freedom, or die in the tryin'!
 * This Land held fast in tyranny
 * For a hundred seasons gone by,
 * Will once more be for all beasts free!
 * Aye, "Freedom!"s our sallying cry!
 * For a hundred seasons gone by,
 * Will once more be for all beasts free!
 * Aye, "Freedom!"s our sallying cry!

Summer (Being a song oft sung by pretty maids...such as yours truly, wot ;) )

Cold days ended, one can tell Birds are singing, in the dell Sweetly ring old Tower bells Summer's here and all is well!

Old Blun Mole (Being more or less a simple tuneless rhyme for Dibbuns and such to learn their letters and such)

Old Blun Mole is a merry soul Missus Trinny is his Goodwife He's got four sons, all little ones And they six live a simple life!